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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203422">Cathedrals of Color</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirozora/pseuds/shirozora'>shirozora</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Falling In Love, Heavensward spoilers abound, Heavensward-centric, Hyur Warrior of Light - Freeform, M/M, in between quests, my boy is an Eternally Tired Dragoon, what am I doing WHY AM I HERE</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 20:35:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,501</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirozora/pseuds/shirozora</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Ishgard suits you."</em>
</p><p>In between the pages of the story about the Scions' quest to save Ishgard, the Warrior of Light finds love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Solace || Disclosure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><a href="https://64.media.tumblr.com/45ef07886282aa5dddda12417d77ef9b/6c33ab77950f692e-2a/s1280x1920/f9f8c7881a5aae3721f8f26259bdd3ad61dab44c.jpg">His name is Taejin Cho</a>, and all he wanted to do was make an honest living as a lance-wielding adventurer in Gridania. So much for that idea.</p><p> </p><p>Full disclosure -- as of right this second, I'm still working through the Dragonsong War quests and have not reached Stormblood proper. </p><p>Writing this fic gave me a chance to work through my thoughts on A Realm Reborn and Heavensward. The teal deer version is that ARR had too much going on all at once while HW gave me a chance to find my footing and figure out how I really felt about FFXIV. I wrote a goddamn fic and drew my WoL, if you need to know what my Feelings are.</p><p>It's been over 10 years since I last poked a Squeenix property and over a year since I last posted to AO3. What am I doing, why am I here, <em>what have I done</em>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ishgard suits you.”</p>
<p>He starts with a sharp exhale that fogs the evening air and further shatters the silence. He tears his gaze away from the foggy silhouette of Cid’s airship in the distance and turns around to see Ishgard’s Lord Commander of the Temple Knights standing but a few fulms away. He looks around; Lucia isn’t lingering nearby. Nobody is.</p>
<p>“Ser Aymeric.” He dips his head in greeting, then looks at the Fortemps manor. “I didn’t know you were coming.”</p>
<p>The lord commander also glances sideways while walking across the snow-dusted stone to join him at the balustrade. “Neither did I. But given the day you had, I thought it… prudent to see how you and the other Scions are faring.”</p>
<p>He flexes his hands, then drops them to his side and away from prying eyes. They still ache; Ser Paulecrain’s spearwork was formidable and Ser Grinnaux came by his sobriquet honestly. He also didn’t want to think about his meeting with the archbishop after the trial, which gave him and Alphinaud reason to wade deeper into Ishgardian affairs.</p>
<p>Ser Aymeric sighs and he looks up at the lord commander. The Elezen is staring down at the empty lower plaza, arms folded tightly.</p>
<p>“I had suspected your presence here would be challenged in some fashion. Many doubt your motives or Lord Edmont’s decision to sponsor you as our war is Nidhogg, not Garlemald or the primals. But I did not anticipate accusations of heresy or a trial by combat.”</p>
<p>“Saint Shiva is a primal,” he says quietly, recalling Lady Iceheart’s parting words. <em>Hear…. Feel…. Think….</em> “And Garlemald only needs an opportunity to invade Coerthas.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>He glances at the lord commander warily. This sounds like a conversation they should have with Alphinaud, yet Ser Aymeric is out here on the landing with him instead of asking to speak with the young Scion. So why is he really here?</p>
<p>“I heard how Alphinaud and Tataru’s trial unfolded, how… surprised people were to learn who else you are. There had been rumors of another Azure Dragoon for moons, an outsider come from the Black Shroud who was chosen by the Eye. Now they know the other Azure Dragoon is you.”</p>
<p>His fingers curl at the memory of shocked silence, of wide eyes following the arc of his lance as he drove it through Ser Grinnaux’s panicked parries. He’ll never admit to reveling in that brief, savage burst of glee at the look on the knight’s face, the regret of a man who severely underestimated the Hyur who was at times called “the Warrior of Light”.</p>
<p>“Would that change anything?” he asks.</p>
<p>“They will not outright refuse your lance if you offer it. And your meeting with the archbishop should put to rest any new challenges to your presence here..” Ser Aymeric smiles wryly. “The trial may have been of greater benefit to you than Ser Grinnaux intended.”</p>
<p>He nods, unsure if he should take this as a compliment. It sounds like one, and he knows this could only aid him while he and Alphinaud monitor Ishgard’s war. But that can’t be the reason why Ser Aymeric sought him out. What is the lord commander looking for? He wishes he could better read the motives of powerful and influential people, but he always left that to Minfilia and Alphinaud. But Minfilia is lost and Alphinaud is indoors and unaware. </p>
<p>“Ser Ay-”</p>
<p>“Aymeric will do,” the lord commander says immediately. “I am not here as the lord commander.”</p>
<p>“Then what are you here as?”</p>
<p>The lord command— <em>Aymeric</em> considers his answer. “A friend, I hope.” He thinks on the question and then his eyes widen. “I am not here to ask anything of you. Not tonight, anyway.”</p>
<p>He nods slowly.</p>
<p>“I did say I wanted to see how you are faring,” Aymeric continues, “but I think the better question is, are you well?”</p>
<p>He cocks his head. Is there a difference? “I was not injured.”</p>
<p>“I would imagine an Azure Dragoon trained by Ser Alberic to walk away from battle with two knights relatively unscathed. But I speak of the trial ever taking place, of the accusations levied against your fellow Scions. I speak of your time with Lord Edmont’s sons at Camp Cloudtop and Falcon’s Nest and the reports I received regarding your actions there. I speak of the reason why you came to Ishgard. Every single action has its price. They take their toll. I wondered if….” Aymeric crosses his arms more tightly, searching for better words.</p>
<p>He can see what the lord commander is trying and failing to say. “We are the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. If someone comes asking for aid, if Eorzea needs defending, then we don’t hesitate to act. We do what we must to help all. You must know how it is.”</p>
<p>“We all have our duty, our responsibilities and cares, yet after everything you lost, it seems you intend to shoulder ours as well,” Aymeric says softly, more to himself than in response. “I cannot ask that of you without knowing if you are well, Taejin. You may be the Warrior of Light, but you are also mortal.”</p>
<p>Taejin looks out at the Pillars. It is well and truly night, and moonlight glimmers on the snow-dusted rooftops. He sees a handful of civilians outside at this hour and they are heading home. This part of Ishgard is quiet, peaceful, soothing. If his nose and fingertips weren’t slowly freezing over, he could spend at least another bell, perhaps two, out here. He should think of dressing better for cold mountains and high winds.</p>
<p>He hears himself say, “I wish more people realized that. Thank you.”</p>
<p>Aymeric smiles and he thinks, idly, <em>I’d like to see it again.</em></p>
<p>Minutes pass and Taejin considers heading inside the manor. He should extend an invitation to Aymeric; didn’t the lord commander say he came here to inquire after Alphinaud and Tataru, too?</p>
<p>“Your fingers are turning blue.”</p>
<p>He looks down at his hands and quickly tucks them inside his coat. “The Black Shroud never gets this cold.” He feels awkward and self-conscious now, so naturally his mind wanders to a starry Thanalan night and a frantic flight to the Black Brush. “Neither does Thanalan.”</p>
<p>“You should visit the Jeweled Crozier when you have the time,” Aymeric says. “You’ll want attire more fitting for our climes. I would suggest the same of Alphinaud.”</p>
<p>Taejin coughs, barely holding back a laugh, remembering Alphinaud’s bitter complaints during their trek from Camp Dragonhead with Haurchefant. “I know Tataru had been scheming-”</p>
<p>“Taejin? Taejin!” Tataru bursts out of the shadow of the estate, searching about while rubbing her arms vigorously. “There you are! Listen, I was just telling Alphinaud what I overheard at the Forgotten— oh!”</p>
<p>She stops short upon seeing Aymeric, straightens herself, and curtsies. “Ser Aymeric, I hadn’t realized you would be, um, that is, I….” She glances between them while adjusting her cap. “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I? Would you like to come in? I’m sure Lord Edmont won’t mind-”</p>
<p>Aymeric raises a hand, stilling her. “Thank you, but no. I am needed elsewhere.” He smiles at her. “Glad am I to see that you are well despite today’s unfortunate events, Miss Tataru.”</p>
<p>“Only because of Taejin,” she says eagerly, making him flush. “I knew he’d come through for us. He always does.”</p>
<p>“So I have heard,” Aymeric says in that soft, thoughtful voice. Loudly, he adds, “I will not keep you. Please send Master Alphinaud my regards.”</p>
<p>“Of course!”</p>
<p>He nods to her and then to Taejin. His gaze lingers, or Taejin is imagining things, and then Aymeric turns and leaves. Taejin watches him fade into the swirling snowfall and then looks down at the Lalafell. She’s staring at him, tapping her chin with a finger.</p>
<p>“So what <em>was</em> that about?” she asks.</p>
<p>He shrugs. “I don’t know, honestly. He said he came to see how we were doing.”</p>
<p>“Maybe he was worried those knights were giving us the wrong impression,” she muses. “But he didn’t come inside to see Alphinaud. I didn’t know he was even here until I went outside looking for you.”</p>
<p>“Yes, about that,” Taejin says. “You said you were telling Alphinaud something?”</p>
<p>She nods. “Overheard a rumor at the Forgotten Knight, and it’s a troubling one. I asked Alhpinaud to meet me there but then that knight came in and accused us of heresy!” She shudders and rubs her arms again. “I really am glad you came to the trial, Taejin.”</p>
<p>“Me, too.” This weather is doing neither of them any favors, so he touches her shoulder and they start walking back to the manor. “What was the rumor about?”</p>
<p>Her nervous cheer abruptly falls away and his stomach sinks. <em>Oh no.</em></p>
<p>“Raubahn.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Favor || Alphinaud's Way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No regrets for pretentious chapter titles. Absolutely none.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Dravanian Horde is gathering again and this time there won’t even be token support from the Eorzean Alliance for battered, defiant Ishgard to expect. To Alphinaud, the only recourse left is finding a way to end the war completely and utterly. This means seeking Lady Iceheart and entreating her aid. This means journeying into Dravania for an audience with the dragons. This means asking the lord commander to interfere with Ishgard’s war efforts so as to give the Scions their very slim chance.</p>
<p>“And you will go with them?” Aymeric asks the elder Azure Dragoon standing stiffly on Alphinaud’s other side.</p>
<p>Once Estinien gives his tacit approval of Alphinaud’s vague proposal, Aymeric promises to do what he can. Taejin is a step slow while following Alphinaud out of the office; he looks back once to see Aymeric watching him. Then Estinien looms into view and he hurries down the staircase after the younger Elezen.</p>
<p>“We should start our search in the Western Highlands,” Alphinaud says in the main hall of the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly. He keeps his voice low as to drown it in the din of knights and dragoons going about their business, not that anyone would think to eavesdrop while Estinien is present. “That was where you last sighted her, wasn’t it?”</p>
<p>“It was,” Taejin says.</p>
<p>“Then our first stop is Falcon’s Nest,” he decides. “We need to go talk to Tataru and Lord Edmont. Estinien, if you have any business to take care of-”</p>
<p>“I need to speak with Taejin,” Estinien says curtly.</p>
<p>He doesn’t elaborate, instead staring at Alphinaud from under his drachem helm until the young Elezen rocks back on his heels. “Very well. Meet me later at the manor, Taejin. We’ll rendezvous at Saint Reinette’s Forum.”</p>
<p>Taejin watches Alphinaud leave, nimbly dodging a trio of knights arguing over some kind of map, and then turns to Estinien. “What was that about?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t want him around.”’</p>
<p>He scowls. “I allow Alphinaud to be privy to the same information-”</p>
<p>“This matter is for a dragoon’s ears,” Estinien says, and <em>that</em> gets Taejin’s attention. “I bring word from Ser Alberic.”</p>
<p>He arches an eyebrow. “You speak with him now?”</p>
<p>“Only when absolutely necessary,” Estinien says reluctantly. “But you were in Thanalan and I knew Heustienne well.”</p>
<p>His heart pounds. Why is Estinien speaking of her in the past tense? “What did Ser Alberic tell you? Did they find her?”</p>
<p>Estinien looks around. A couple dragoons nod in acknowledgement, otherwise the hall pays him and Taejin no mind. “There’s word that a heretic was sighted near the Convictory carrying her father’s lance. They are searching the area as we speak.”</p>
<p>Did she drop it from Graoully’s back? Did she fall with it? Did the dragon deliver her to the heretics? How is Taejin to face her father with this news? He has only questions, and he won’t find the answers here.</p>
<p>“Ser Alberic does not need you yet,” Estinien continues. “And this foolish mission of Alphinaud’s is the priority, not the plight of a missing dragoon.”</p>
<p>Taejin bristles. “If it saves lives that would otherwise be lost to the Horde, it isn’t foolish.”</p>
<p>“I don’t share your hopes that <em>words</em> will end a thousand-year war-” Estinien cuts himself off and shakes his head. He presses a clawed fingertip to his brow. “This was not why I wanted to speak with you.”</p>
<p>Taejin waits but he doesn’t elaborate. “Did Ser Alberic have anything else to say?”</p>
<p>“No. It has nothing to do with him or Heustienne.”</p>
<p>Estinien is wasting his time. Taejin squares his shoulders. “Then I’ll see you in an hour-”</p>
<p>“I would speak with you about Aymeric.”</p>
<p>It takes a little too long for him to react or notice how informally Estinien addresses the lord commander. “... is there something I should know?”</p>
<p>“That depends.” Estinien looks at the staircase going up to the Seat of the Lord Commander. “After I returned to Ishgard and made my amends, I told him about you. Ser Alberic sent in his own reports but you were a curiosity, a Hyur from Gridania chosen by the Eye while I am still the Azure Dragoon. There was also the matter of you… freeing me from Nidhogg’s influence.”</p>
<p>Taejin tilts his head, trying and failing to understand exactly what point Estinien is making. The elder dragoon notices and sighs. “Fine. I will say it plain— he favors you, for what you have done for Ishgard and for me. He already holds the Scions in almost as high a regard as Lord Haurchefant does, but he is always asking after you.”</p>
<p>Taejin remembers that night on the Last Vigil. He remembers Aymeric asking how he was faring after the trial, taking it upon himself to reassure Taejin that Ishgard is not as frigid or unforgiving as her climes. He had wondered why Aymeric came all this way, alone, just to ask if he was all right.</p>
<p>“I would prefer to believe his interest is due to his support for Lord Edmont’s sponsorship of you and the other Scions,” Estinien continues, looking very much like he ate something sour. “But now you intend to treat with the dra— do you realize what you risk with this plan? What you invite whether you succeed or fail?”</p>
<p>“But if the opportunity is there, would you ignore it?” Taejin retorts because of course they would circle back to Alphinaud’s plan. “Would you rather lose more people like Heustienne?”</p>
<p>“What I would give to resurrect Ferndale and all who died there!” Estinien snaps, and heads turn. “Instead I must satisfy myself with avenging their deaths, and they are but a fistful compared to all the lives we lost to Nidhogg and his Horde. If this plan of his goes south, then we end the war with a victory and the wyrm’s other eye. If you won’t lend your lance for that, then you and the Scions will do well to step aside.”</p>
<p>Too many people now watch when Alphinaud wished their mission to be a secret. Taejin steps back, hands up placatingly, hoping the commotion doesn’t bring down either Lucia or, Twelve forbid, Aymeric. “We want the same thing, Estinien. Just give him a chance.”</p>
<p>Estinien exhales loudly through his nostrils. He tilts his head this way and that, considering the knights standing nearby. The Congregation is the absolute worst place to continue debating Alphinaud’s plan, so he leans in and whispers, “Do me this favor then, Taejin. Don’t make Aymeric regret his decision.”</p>
<p>“I won’t,” Taejin says cautiously. Why is Estinien so protective of the lord commander? Just how close are they? Is it his business to ask? “Is there more that I should know? He trusts you enough to agree to the plan, and that can’t just be because you’re the Azure Dragoon.”</p>
<p>Estinien stares at him. Taejin may be taller than Alphinaud but he still steps back from the weight of the elder dragoon’s glower. He doesn’t know what to make of the man’s stony mask, or the sudden wry smile that graces his face. </p>
<p>“You could say we are close. We work closely as we each command an arm of Ishgard’s might. I trust him with my life and he knows I would not fail him. I will leave it at that, as should you.”</p>
<p>Taejin is happy to drop it entirely. This conversation is entering prickly, personal territory and he doesn’t want to venture any deeper than is necessary. He takes another step back, giving Estinien a wider berth.</p>
<p>“I agree.”</p>
<p>Estinien turns sharply on the balls of his feet and leaves him behind. Seconds after he exits the Congregation, Taejin’s linkpearl alerts him to an incoming message.</p>
<p>
  <em>“We never discussed this, so don’t make me recall it. I’ll be waiting at Saint Reinette’s Forum.”</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Luck || Ready To Fly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Updating fic instead of working on NaNoWriMo and to avoid thinking about Election Selection Fucktacular 2020 is very much On Brand here, you're welcome.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wait.”</p><p>Alphinaud stops and looks over his shoulder, but he’s not whom the lord commander is addressing. Estinien pushes the younger Elezen ahead of him and out the room. The door shuts behind them abruptly, silencing Alphinaud’s protests.</p><p>Taejin turns around to Aymeric and Lucia, unsure of the reason why he’s being asked to stay. Aymeric glances at his second-in-command, who returns the look with some exasperation, picks up several folded missives, and leaves. Taejin can hear her pull the door shut behind her.The sound is deafening.</p><p>Seconds pass. He counts them by each resounding beat in his head, in his chest. What does the lord commander wish to discuss privately? What more is there to say?</p><p>Aymeric looks at something on his desk, contemplating, arms folded tightly. It’s morning still and cold sunlight filters in through the tall windows on either side of the seat, creating a dreamlike glow. Taejin can’t help staring, and then realizes he’s staring at the same time that Aymeric clears his throat and looks up.</p><p>“I would ask something of you.”</p><p>His voice sounds ill-used, hesitant in a way Taejin has never heard before. A strange day is becoming stranger.</p><p>“I… hope you’re not asking me for Estinien’s forgiveness,” he ventures.</p><p>Aymeric blinks, then laughs and shakes his head. “No, he made his point clear. As much as I wish to face down that dread wyrm alongside you both, my place is here. I have to believe I’ll contribute little to that fight, and that someone must stand ready should either you or Nidhogg fall.”</p><p>“Then what do you….”</p><p>His question falls away when Aymeric opens a drawer and then stands. Whatever he withdrew is small; it’s hidden completely in his clenched right hand as he walks around his desk and stops before Taejin.</p><p>“This is not because I doubt victory, but I have considered all possibilities. It leads to many restless nights, a hundred thousand thoughts about what I can do, what I can offer. Eight times has Nidhogg razed our lands and eight times have we brought him low. I must believe this is the last time.”</p><p>“But if you’re not offering your sword,” Taejin says, unable to keep his eyes off the clenched hand, “then what are you offering?”</p><p>Aymeric looks at his right hand. “Very little. It is but a small token, something that had seen me through the years. I think it lucky, foolish as it sounds.”</p><p>“You would never hear me say that.” Yet Taejin is immensely curious what a pragmatic man’s idea of luck looks like.</p><p>The token sitting in Aymeric’s palm is a small ring. It must have once belonged to a child, and was well-worn and weathered with time. The gravity of what Aymeric is offering him sinks in and he looks up at the Elezen in disbelief.</p><p>“As I said,” Aymeric says softly, “it is foolish but this is one of the few things I keep close. If I cannot be there, then I wish you to take it with you to the Aery.”</p><p>“I… did not expect you to be sentimental,” Taejin admits. He can’t stop staring at the ring cradled in Aymeric’s palm, glinting in the morning light. His own hand twitches and curls tightly.</p><p>“Most people do not look for it in the lord commander, nor do I let them. But you are not most people.”</p><p>That he speaks of Taejin like this so freely <em>aches</em>. Taejin thinks back to that night outside the manor and the questions Aymeric asked, the concern he showed where so many would thank Taejin and then either leave or ask his assistance for some other matter, the next request, the next mission, the next need Eorzea has of him. Estinien had said Aymeric favors him for defending Ishgard, but this is something else entirely. It feels like a door is opening.</p><p>And yet.</p><p>“I don’t know if I can accept this,” he says. “It is of value to you, and should stay here where it’s safe. If I take it, you may never see it again.”</p><p>That ache, that fragile feeling only deepens when Aymeric smiles down at his little ring.</p><p>“All the more reason for you to take it. I will risk losing it if it grants you the luck you need, if it lets your lance strike true.” Aymeric considers the expression on his face. “You can always return it when it is over. I know you have weathered storms enough, that you tend to make your own luck. But I admit I will rest easier knowing it is with you.”</p><p>Gloomy thoughts surface. Is it luck that Taejin stands here when so many others gave themselves up to save him? He looks at the ring while thinking on Aymeric’s wish. This is no mere gesture, not just a show of support. This is not luck etched haphazardly on its surface, but the scars of hope of another day, another chance. It is the very thing he and the Scions fight for, the reason why he survived.</p><p>“Then I’ll return it when I no longer have need of it,” Taejin decides and holds out his hand.</p><p>“In person, I hope.”</p><p>Aymeric places the ring in his outstretched palm. It is a light little thing with none of the magicks forged into it like Taejin’s other rings, but it weighs a tonze in his hand and burns like cold fire. Swallowing hard, he pockets the ring and steps back.</p><p>“I should... they are waiting for me,” Taejin says. Why is his face so hot? “I need to, there is much to prepare for.”</p><p>“I won’t keep you any longer,” Aymeric replies. “Halone’s blessings be upon you, Taejin.”</p><p>The last thing he sees while leaving the office is Aymeric standing next to his seat, looking pensively at his right hand. Taejin tries not to think about it as he hurries down the stairs and out the Congregation onto the plaza. The ring is a heavy weight in his inner pocket; he has no intention of keeping it there the entire time he is crossing Dravania and breaching the Aery’s defenses. He’ll have to scramble to the Jeweled Crozier for a solution and then run to the Skysteel Manufactory before Estinien hunts him down.</p><p>Estinien contacts him via linkpearl instead. <em>“How much longer must I wait?”</em></p><p>Taejin grimaces while waiting for Seghuie to return to her stall in the marketplace. “Give me a few minutes more.”</p><p>
  <em>“... fine.”</em>
</p><p>Glad the elder dragoon didn’t press him, he allows himself to relax just an ilm as Seghuie returns with a small wood-carved box. “This I happen to have, Master Taejin. Not exactly something the adventuring sort like yourself asks for so I don’t keep very many. But today, you are in luck.”</p><p>The box holds a fine silvery chain. She promises it is unbreakable but offers little else, which is just what he needs. He leaves the box with her and heads down to the Foundation with his seemingly frivolous purchase. Outside the manufactory doors, he carefully threads it through the little ring and pulls the chain over his head just as Estinien steps outside to find him.</p><p>They stare at each other, then Estinien glances at the chain and ring slipping under Taejin’s collar. Taejin braces himself for a biting comment about wasting everyone’s time on magicked jewelry.</p><p>“Fair enough,” Estinien says instead. “The manacutters are ready.”</p><p>Taejin doesn’t miss the amused curl of Estinien’s mouth as he turns away. Embarrassed but relieved the elder dragoon dropped the matter, he enters the manufactory where the others are readying to end the Dragonsong War.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Fault || A Knight's Calling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How many bells has he spent now in this too-soft bed, staring at the pale light streaming through the window? He feels hollow and the vast void in his chest aches, gnaws at him if he tries to close his eyes. When he isn’t wondering how it all went wrong, he is trying and failing to numb himself to that terrible void.</p><p>This time, the fault is not with unfathomable forces that drive ambition and faith, but with men who would not see what horrors they wrought and trailed in their wake. This time, the fault is with men who could have chosen a different path but refused.</p><p>It will still be dark for another two hours and Taejin can’t sleep. If he tries, he sees Hraesvelgr’s complicity laid bare. He sees Ysayle’s faith slip from her fingertips. He sees a betrayed, furious Aymeric storming out of the Fortemps manor. He sees—he cannot stop seeing Haurchefant’s….</p><p>His fingers curl tightly against his chest. His eyes burn. <em>Haurchefant should be here. If not here, then at Camp Dragonhead. He should be waiting for us to walk through those doors.</em></p><p>
  <em>You should be here. Why aren’t you here?</em>
</p><p>The life of an adventurer is not heroic or romantic. How many times has Taejin escaped death by the skin of his teeth, by a lucky strike from his bloodied lance? How many others did not share his fate? He was no stranger to loss by the time Momodi bade him accept Y’shtola’s invitation to the Waking Sands. Where is Y’shtola now? When he, Alphinaud, and Tataru fled Ul’dah and the treacherous Braves, Haurchefant took them in and gained their passage into Ishgard. And where is Haurchefant now?</p><p>
  <em>He is lost. He is dead. It should’ve been me. I should’ve taken that lance. I should’ve died under Ul’dah. I should’ve-</em>
</p><p>His thoughts chase their tails without rest, around and around and around. He won’t be able to sleep like this. He gets out of bed and searches through the clothes Tataru placed in his borrowed dresser while he was away—while he bore witness to the treacherous origins of the Dragonsong War—and pulls out the warm layers haphazardly. He pauses when his fingers snag on a chain around his neck. He holds up the necklace to stare at the little weatherworn ring hanging from the fine chain, and then looks at his reflection in a borrowed mirror sitting on the borrowed dresser.</p><p>He wonders if Aymeric is well.</p><p>The manor is quiet. The lamps are lit but he encounters no one while leaving the estate. The guard posted at the gate only nods while he walks past and into the frigid night.</p><p>Taejin wanders around the Last Vigil and leans on the railing. He looks out at the silhouette of the Pillars rising in the blue gloom, buildings and monuments dimply illuminated by moonlight. This part of Ishgard is pristine, untouched by what shook at the Foundation, untainted by the blood spilt in the Vault. What an isolated, insulated world. Taejin wants to scream, shatter the insufferable silence.</p><p>Instead he watches a pair of knights lingering by the Aetheneum Arcaneum, hazy gray figures half-shrouded in shadows and snow.</p><p>He tilts his head at the sound of heavy footsteps. Either a patrol is making their rounds or someone is looking for him. They’ll learn soon enough that he makes poor company.</p><p>“I thought you might be here.”</p><p>He stiffens, then quickly turns around to see Lucia standing a short distance away. The first commander is armored and armed at such an early hour, but alone. She makes no move to approach him and he stays where he stands.</p><p>“Is there an emergency?” When she shakes her head, Taejin says, “It’s early and the others still sleep.”</p><p>Lucia smiles wryly. “I didn’t come here on official business. But, you are awake.”</p><p>He shrugs and looks elsewhere, tucking his cold hands into the folds of his long coat. “So are you.”</p><p>“Yes.” She sighs. “And so is Ser Aymeric.”</p><p>He twitches. He hadn’t heard from or seen the lord commander since that terrible day at the Vault. Once the other knights came to help, Taejin and Alphinaud immediately left for the Fortemps manor. As the story of death and betrayal spread, and unrest shivered down from the Pillars to the Foundation and the Brume, the Scions retreated into solitude and grief. They were in limbo, paralyzed by another loss so near and dear to their hearts.</p><p>“What now?” Tataru had asked, peering out the window of Alphinaud’s room.</p><p>“Nothing,” Alphinaud mumbled. He sat hunched in a chair, wrung out from replaying the events at the Vault from every angle, wondering if there could have been another outcome. If there could have been another way. “Not yet.”</p><p><em>Not yet</em>, but Lucia is here so something is clearly happening <em>now</em>.  </p><p>“Is he well?” Taejin asks. “Should he even be awake at this hour? He should be resting-”</p><p>“He thought you might be,” she interjects, “and asked me to come here and see. He would speak with you, if you are willing.”</p><p>Taejin looks up at the sky. The stars are still too bright. There is time. “I am.”</p><p>He doesn’t know where Lucia takes him, only that they’re not heading down to the Foundation but elsewhere in Ishgard’s upper districts. Tataru would know where they’re going. He should ask her later because even after weeks, he doesn’t know the city as well as he’d like.</p><p>They come up to a half-lit manor. The knight standing outside doesn’t blink as Lucia sweeps past. They don’t look at Taejin either as he hesitates before following her inside. She doesn’t say whose home they entered but he didn’t need to ask if they were going to the Borel manor. </p><p>She leads Taejin past darkened rooms and hallways, and then stops in front of a pair of old varnished doors. She raises her hand to knock but hesitates and looks at Taejin.</p><p>“He is recovering,” she slowly says, “but he is not doing as well as he should. I will not speak for him, but know that what transpired at the Vault weighs heavily on both of us. So much went wrong that day, so much that I regret. Lord Haurchefant was your friend and ally even before you came to Ishgard. I cannot imagine what you are going through now, and for that I am sorry.”</p><p>He looks away, jaw and hands clenching. “And still the war continues.”</p><p>“It will end,” Lucia says. For a moment, her thoughts are far from here and her voice is soft. “I only fear the cost.”</p><p>She raps on the door and then opens it. She leans in and Taejin hears a brief, muffled exchange. She then steps back. “I trust you can find your way back from here?”</p><p>“I can try,” he says, flashing a brief smile, and enters the room.</p><p>He expected a study, a formal and safe setting, but instead he stands inside someone’s private chambers. There is a banked fire casting flickering lights and shadows on two old chairs in front of it. There is a small antique writing desk in a corner and no one sits behind it. There are shelves lined with books and baubles, paintings on the wall, a coat of arms. There is a large unmade bed and someone sitting at the foot of it, mostly dressed but certainly not to receive any early morning guests.</p><p>Taejin looks away, embarrassed. Why is he here? Why did he agree to come here? His gaze falls on one of the empty chairs, noting traces of animal fur in the seat. How strange and… <em>normal</em>.</p><p>“So I was right.”</p><p>He glances sharply at Aymeric. “About what?”</p><p>“That you would be awake.” Aymeric’s eyes narrow, searching his face. “Have you slept at all?”</p><p>He refuses to say. Instead, recalling Lucia’s words, he studies the lord commander. Aymeric looks better than when Taejin last saw him, but that is not saying much; he appears as if he meant to stand but could not find the strength or will. Taejin could see the edges of a fading bruise above the collar of his shirt, could see how gingerly the Elezen holds himself. Aymeric looks healthy enough when one ignores the dull sheen of his eyes or how heavily he holds his head.</p><p>“You should be resting,” Taejin says, “not sending Lucia out on errands before the sun is even up.”</p><p>Aymeric shakes his head. “I’ve endured worse. You need not worry about me.”</p><p>“Not all wounds heal,” Taejin continues. “Lucia told us. I know who Archbishop Thordan is to you.”</p><p>Aymeric’s expression stiffens. Should he have said that? He holds his breath, waiting for the lord commander to decide how to react.</p><p>“You would have heard it, one way or another,” Aymeric slowly says. “Better that it came from Lucia, if not from myself.” He flexes his left hand and winces. “I pleaded with him but he saw no reason to end this unjust war. And he could ill afford me shattering a thousand year old illusion.”</p><p>Questions press up at the back of Taejin’s throat. He wants to ask what happened when Aymeric confronted the archbishop, what was exchanged, how Archbishop Thordan intended to win the war. He wants to know why the archbishop abandoned Ishgard and where his airship is headed. He wants some clue that’ll take him straight to the old man and his self-righteous knights, lance and heart singing for vengeance.</p><p>“I know you have questions,” Aymeric says. “But I did not ask you here to answer them. I… I want to know if you are well. I suppose not, you do not look it, but I would hear from you.”</p><p>This is why Taejin is standing inside the Borel manor at this late hour? What is Aymeric looking for? What does he want to hear? Why does he care? Taejin wishes he could understand Aymeric at a glance instead of grasping at possibilities while failing to disperse the fog in his head. He is exhausted—exhausted from treading around the Fortemps manor like the floor is broken glass, exhausted from lack of sleep, exhausted from trying to sleep. How can he possibly hope to understand the lord commander in this state?</p><p>
  <em>Why don’t you say why you ran off to the Vault without a plan?</em>
</p><p>“I don’t know what you want to hear,” Taejin slowly says. “You’re right. I am not well. None of us are. We're-” <em>Still in a daze. It’s only been a day. It’s only been two days. Three? How many days did I lose after breaking into the Vault to draw the knights away from you?</em> “-well, Alphinaud is trying to put together a plan but we’re running out of time."</p><p>“You intend to pursue the archbishop.”</p><p>“Why would we not?” Taejin retorts. “The power his knights wielded… we have theories, unpleasant ones. The kind that requires the Scions’ intervention. And Archbishop Thordan must return to face judgment, to answer for the lies that fueled your war. I would have him answer for—for Haurchefant.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It does not calm him. “I shouldn’t want this. Scions do not act out of vengeance, but I am tired of losing people. They only want to help, to make Eorzea a better place, and instead they die to save <em>me</em>.”</p><p>
  <em>“I only fear the cost.”</em>
</p><p>He clenches his hands tightly while staring at the glowing embers in the fireplace. He feels Aymeric’s gaze on him but doesn’t look.</p><p>“Lord Haurchefant’s death was not your fault, Taejin,” Aymeric says softly. “Of all the people to blame, it should not be you. The blame lies with me. Had I not gone alone to confront him, ill-prepared for how he could react, had I waited but a day… even waiting until morning could have spared Haurchefant his fate.”</p><p>Taejin says nothing. </p><p>“It is why I cannot rest. I must make this right, no matter the cost. I will not have more people sacrifice all to win this unending war. We will see its end. I promise you this.”</p><p>He shakes his head. Tonight, of all nights, of all days, Aymeric’s words mean nothing to him. He finds no comfort in them. “I don’t envy your duties as the lord commander. I don’t envy how you or the archbishop or Minfilia or any of the other leaders are able to keep going despite all these deaths that gather around you. Because if every death paralyzed you, you never would’ve made it this far. But I don’t have that luxury. Every life and every death weighs me down as much as knowing Eorzea’s fate rests in my hands, and I have lost so many lives lately. So many lives that should be here but aren’t. Haurchefant should be here, Aymeric, <em>but he isn’t.</em></p><p>“I had never met someone who was so glad to see me. I would be passing through Camp Dragonhead on my way to Mor Dhona or the Black Shroud, and he’d come out to see how I was faring, to hear of my latest misadventure. When the Scions were accused of regicide, when the Crystal Braves hunted us, he gave us shelter when he didn’t have to. He made our passage into Ishgard possible. I owe him everything, but I have nothing to give.”</p><p>He closes his eyes and sees the light fade from Haurchefant’s. “He died to save me. I don’t know why I’m still allowed to stay.”</p><p>He hears nothing behind him. The only sound is the low crackling in the fireplace. He supposes he said too much, that he shouldn’t have allowed every bitter thought spill out of his mouth where Aymeric can hear him. But he is too tired to care about the lord commander’s feelings. He knows apathy will pass once he finally gets some rest and that regret will hit hard, but right now he doesn’t care. He should’ve refused Lucia’s invitation when she first extended it. he probably should’ve gone back inside the Fortemps manor and tried in vain to sleep. A futile exercise, but the only hurt feelings would be his own.</p><p>“You’re right,” Aymeric says. His voice is louder and clearer, and something prickles at the back of Taejin’s neck. “I suppose that after what you’ve been through, anything I say is meaningless. I make no excuses for myself. I know what part I played in your loss and for that I am truly sorry.”</p><p>Taejin turns around and his heart thumps loudly and painfully. He didn’t hear Aymeric get up or walk over to the fireplace, but the Elezen is standing close, gaze drawn to the embers in the fireplace, looking tired and sorrowful. Taejin wants to reach out to see if he’ll fall over with a push or catch him if he falls, and then wonders why he’s thinking any of this at all.</p><p>“I cannot imagine a more difficult lesson than knowing someone’s blood is on your hands because you misjudged a situation,” Aymeric continues. He looks at Taejin and his eyes are bright in the firelight. “You have to believe your decisions are the right ones. If you hesitate, if you falter, you could lose so many more lives. That is the reality I live with, something I believe young Alphinaud is quickly understanding, but sometimes I forget how much it <em>hurts</em>.”</p><p>“He hasn’t forgotten,” Taejin says quietly.</p><p>“He shouldn’t. It will temper his judgment. It will temper mine. It will remind me why I am doing this, why I moved against the archbishop and the Holy See. I cannot lose more people like Haurchefant. I cannot stand by and watch them break. Whatever I can do to help you and the Scions end this cycle, the lies of my forefathers, I will do it. You only need to ask.”</p><p>Is it so simple? Can he really ask anything of Ishgard’s lord commander, the man now tasked with protecting the city and her people beyond the limits of his duties because the archbishop abandoned them all? It is a frightening thought. No, it terrifies him because he is too tired to be rational and Aymeric is <em>right here</em>. His face and eyes glow in the firelight and he looks so weary and unpolished, and Taejin can’t stop wondering who else has he allowed to see him like this. Who else has Aymeric allowed to see him be vulnerable and fallible?</p><p>Taejin doesn’t realize how long he’d been staring until Aymeric says, “I must look terrible.”</p><p><em>Not terrible</em>, Taejin thinks, then bites the inside of his cheek before the thought tumbles out. By the Twelve is he tired. He apparently lost all judgement several bells ago. He looks at the window and his heart sinks at the sight of the pale sky. Dawn is coming.</p><p>He blinks awake when he hears his name and looks at Aymeric in confusion.</p><p>“I’ve kept you here long enough,” Aymeric says. “You should get some rest, or at least try. You are no good to anyone like this.”</p><p>He doubts sleep will come, but he doesn’t say. Their little meeting—or whatever this is, he isn’t sure—is over and so he reluctantly steps back. Aymeric’s gaze has turned to the fireplace again and he looks to be lost in thought. Taejin decides that is his cue and turns away. </p><p>“Thank you,” he hears the Elezen say. Aymeric’s voice is a whisper, thoughts put to words that perhaps Taejin wasn’t meant to hear. “Not everyone is as honest as they want me to believe. It is no one’s burden but mine, but I am always grateful to the one who tells me what I need to hear.”</p><p>Taejin hesitates, then says, “You listened. That is all I can ask for.”</p><p>He leaves before more of his thoughts could gather and spill out. He’s said enough, he’s said too much, and he needs to get away. Outside the Borel manor, with pale golden light streaming down through the cold air, he pulls his coat more tightly around him and tries to think about what just happened. He tries to think about what he said and to whom, the loss and anger that he allowed to boil over, and the person who heard everything without complaint. </p><p>He presses fingertips to his chest and realizes the hollow ache has dulled. Either he is so tired as to become numbed to his own feelings, or he left behind more than his bitter words in Aymeric’s home. It is likely the former but a part of him wants to believe it is the latter, that talking to Aymeric let him clear his head about the deaths around him and ease the burden of being Eorzea’s Warrior of Light.</p><p>
  <em>”I want to know if you are well. I suppose not, you do not look it, but I would hear from you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I will say it plain—he favors you.”</em>
</p><p>Is this what favor looks like? Is this what favor feels like? He feels the ring under his fingers and looks over his shoulder at the Borel manor. What did Aymeric intend when he gifted Taejin his ring? It is luck, it is promise, it is hope, it is… a key. It is how Taejin was able to enter the Borel manor and stand in the lord commander’s bedchamber at such an early hour and accuse him of not thinking about who pays for his actions, as noble as they are. Favor, to Aymeric, apparently means allowing Taejin into his most private space where he doesn’t have to keep up appearances, where he can be tired and imperfect and mortal.</p><p>Taejin doesn’t know what to do with this. He is completely out of his depth as both Scion and the Warrior of Light, and is not prepared to think about it as himself, as a perpetually weary adventurer from Gridania.</p><p>“I have to think,” he says out loud. His words are puffs of white fog around his head. </p><p>What he really needs is rest, a chance to sleep, something he might finally have after such a terribly long and wakeful night. He walks away from the manor as the sun rises high, and hopes nobody asks where he went so early in the morning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was really hard to write.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Promise || Hour of Departure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*laughs anxiously*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Be back before the next bell,” Cid says and clambers back onto the Enterprise where Wedge and Biggs are putting the finishing touches to the aetheric ram.</p>
<p>“I will stay here,” Y’shtola says, leaning against the baluster near the airship ramp, “and keep an eye out for our fellow Azure Dragoon.”</p>
<p>Taejin pretends not to hear the hitch, the hesitation in her otherwise upbeat declaration. She’ll tell him what truly troubles her when she’s ready. He nods and glances at Alphinaud, who’s doing his best not to shrink under his coat; today is sunny and cloudless, but the northwesterly wind feels like ice.</p>
<p>“You should speak with Ser Aymeric and Lucia,” Aphinaud decides while tucking his hands under his arms. “I’ll find Tataru and Hilda. After, meet me at the manor. Lord Edmont wishes to see us privately before we depart.”</p>
<p>Taejin nods again though dread constricts his throat. He swallows hard while following Alphinaud out of the airship landing, wondering what Lord Edmont wishes to say to them.</p>
<p>They part ways at Saint Valeroyant’s Forum, Alphinaud slipping inside the Forbidden Knight while Taejin continues to the Congregation. As soon as he steps foot inside the main hall, all activity ceases. Knights and dragoons and machinists stop in their tracks to watch him go up to Lucia. The first commander is holding court at a long table with several knights, but stops talking as soon as she sees him. She gestures at the knights and they disperse, giving her and Taejin privacy.</p>
<p>“Would that I could go with you to Azys Lla, but my duty is here,” she says while sorting several maps of Ishgard and Dravania. “To think that the archbishop would draw power from primals to win this war, and damn the consequences. Ishgard is lucky the Scions are here.”</p>
<p>“We do what we must,” Taejin replies. He glances sideways at the knight posted next to the staircase up to Aymeric’s office.</p>
<p>Lucia clears her throat. “I thought you came here from the Fortemps manor. Ser Aymeric said he had business there and left some time ago.”</p>
<p>Oh. “Then I had better go.”</p>
<p>She nods. “I will see you off at the landing.”</p>
<p>He passes by watchful Ishgardians on his way out of the Congregation, and wonders how many of them know the truth. Rumors and hearsay run amok, and Ishgard bristles like an anxious beast. A thousand years of certainty are crumbling under their feet, all because Alphinaud had a plan and Taejin had the Echo.</p>
<p>Alphinaud is nowhere to be seen when he arrives at the gates of the Fortemps manor. He also didn’t see the lord commander on his way up to the Pillars, so Lord Edmont must still be occupied. He looks around and notices the Fortemps house knight trying to catch his eye. The house knight tilts their head to their left, suggesting something in that direction is of interest to him. Taejin suspects he knows exactly what he’ll find as he walks around the manor walls and glimpses a figure in blue, gray, and gold.</p>
<p>He doesn’t say anything at first. Why would he? The hour isn’t up, Alphinaud is not yet here, there is nobody else out and about, and the sky is so fair. One could describe this moment of silence as the calm before the storm, but Taejin likens it to holding one’s breath before taking that plunge into deep dark waters. For a few peaceful, blissful seconds, he simply watches Aymeric look out at the Pillars and the grand silhouette of the Enterprise.</p>
<p>Alas, time is ephemeral, and so he says, “I thought you would be inside with Lord Edmont.”</p>
<p>Aymeric turns around and smiles while leaning against the balustrade, arms folded. “I was. Once our business was concluded, he said he was expecting you and Alphinaud. I decided to bide my time nearby.”</p>
<p>“Alphinaud isn’t here yet so you’ll have to wait a little longer to speak to him,” Taejin says. He steps up to the railing next to the lord commander and leans on cold, carved stone. He looks out at Ishgard’s upper districts, taking in the empty plazas and walkways. “I went to the Congregation to tell you and Lucia that we’re ready to depart.”</p>
<p>“Estinien already sent word,” Aymeric replies. He tilts his head heavenward at the clear blue sky. “So much time spent finding a way past the aetheric barrier. I hope we are not too late.”</p>
<p><em>But it was not wasted time,</em> Taejin wants to say but he holds his tongue. The time Aymeric spoke of was time used to find Archbishop Thordan and his Ascian allies, time used to find Azys Lla, time used to find <em>Y’shtola</em>. When they pulled her out of the Lifestream, he began to feel a new hope; if she was alive, then maybe the others were, too. They must be out there somewhere. He just needs to go out and find them.</p>
<p>But the time he and the others spent drawing closer to their goal was time Aymeric spent watching over a city of thousands, tens of thousands, that grows more uncertain and fearful with each passing day. The Vault is empty and the archbishop is on a floating isle somewhere in the Sea of Clouds. The Vault is empty and Ishgard is now being led by someone the Holy See had accused of treason. How much time does Aymeric have left before the city implodes?</p>
<p>“I don’t believe we’re too late,” Taejin chooses to say. “I <em>know</em> we’re not too late.”</p>
<p>Aymeric smiles gratefully and Taejin has to look away. His gaze falls to the plaza down below. No civilian has crossed it since he came up to the rail. He saw so few out on Saint Valeroyant’s Forum. The Jeweled Crozier too was devoid of activity when he passed by. Where did everybody go?</p>
<p>“There are usually more people around at this hour.”</p>
<p>“You’ve noticed.” Aymeric sighs heavily. “Ishgard is not used to being uncertain about the future. We lived with such conviction, such faith that our war was just, our cause was righteous, that for a thousand years we did not fear tomorrow. Not anymore. Our war was built on a lie that sustained that faith, and I intend for every Ishgardian to know the truth.”</p>
<p>Where has he seen this spirit before, this drive to do what is right despite the cost? Haurchefant? No, he’s thinking about the sultana Nanamo. She had dreams that would’ve shaken Ul’dah to the foundations and instead was nearly felled by a Syndicate member who craved wealth and power. Now Aymeric is making real this titanic shift in Ishgard’s foundations, exposing their forefathers’ falsehoods and the blood, sweat, and tears that were spilled to sustain them. What will happen to him once the truth is out?</p>
<p>Somehow, Aymeric already guessed his thoughts on the matter. “We cannot fight this war forever. All wars have an end, and I would have a say in this one. I will not have Ishgard continue believing these lies, pretending we did not commit the sin of slaying Ratatoskr for her power that so enraged Nidhogg that he tormented us for these thousand years. It could take a thousand more to undo them, but I would start now rather than to look the other way and pray someone else is braver than I.”</p>
<p>But all Taejin can think about is Teledji’s attempted assassination and Ilberd’s treachery. “What happens when Ishgard turns on itself?”</p>
<p>“We will overcome it,” Aymeric says grimly. “It is not just our past I wish to make right but also our future. Even if Nidhogg no longer threatens us, there are others who can take up his cause. We can never have peace if we do not confront and right our wrongs. Once we do, Ishgard will be stronger. We will be better than what we once were.”</p>
<p><em>That’s not what I meant</em>, Taejin thinks but he can’t bring himself to say it. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth and all he can do is nod.</p>
<p>“But that cannot happen while he is still out there. You must stop Archbishop Thordan and the knights of the Heavens’ Ward first. We can ill afford primals walking these lands and taking what little we have left.” Aymeric looks at Taejin fully. “Do not hold back. You have my blessing to do what must needs be done to save Ishgard.”</p>
<p>He lost count of all the times he and the Scions were called upon to end a primal threat but this entreaty feels different, for lack of better words. None of his previous encounters with primals ended in the capture or death of a nation’s leader, yet here he is agreeing to do just that. Or, a low bitter voice muses in the back of his mind, it has nothing to do with primals and everything to do with what happened at the Vault.</p>
<p>A familiar figure walks through the lower plaza toward the airship landing. It’s Lucia. How much time has passed? Is the hour nearly up? Alphinaud could already be here, waiting and wondering where he was.</p>
<p>“I should— Alphinaud must be waiting for me,” Taejin says while pushing off the balustrade. “I should go see if he’s here or find him if he hasn’t come back yet. And Aymeric, I will do as you ask. I won’t hold back.”</p>
<p>Promise given, he turns away, adding, “If you are needed elsewhere, you don’t need to wait for us at the-”</p>
<p>He goes utterly still at the strong warm grip around his forearm.</p>
<p>“Taejin, wait.”</p>
<p>He turns around. Aymeric is standing much closer than he recalls, and the reason why becomes clear when the Elezen leans in to say quietly, fiercely, “You must come back. Once you are done with Azys Lla, you must come back to Ishgard.”</p>
<p><em>Where else would I go?</em> </p>
<p>But he says nothing of the sort. He knows what else the lord commander asks of him. The Scions have committed themselves to seeing the end of one Ishgard and the beginning of another, but Aymeric is asking <em>him</em> to come back. To survive this fight.</p>
<p>Taejin could do that. Besides, he made a promise several moons ago and he intends to keep it.</p>
<p>“I will,” he says. “You once asked me to return your ring in person, and I intend to do so.”</p>
<p>Aymeric laughs. It’s a surprised, delighted sound, and it makes his eyes bright, makes his face flush and his lips redden. Taejin wants to kiss them.</p>
<p>Wait. </p>
<p>Just wait.</p>
<p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p>
<p>He tries to breathe, to calm down, to steady himself, but he is unsteady and his smile is unsteady. His heart beats so loudly and painfully he fears it’ll burst. He feels the impression of every finger of Aymeric’s hand around his arm. He knows how close Aymeric is standing and he doesn’t know whether to pull away or press closer.</p>
<p>
  <em>Taejin, what are you thinking? By the Twelve, what are you thinking?</em>
</p>
<p>And,</p>
<p>
  <em>What have you found here in Ishgard?</em>
</p>
<p>“... are unfounded,” Aymeric is saying, “if the Warrior of Light is reminding me of a promise he already made.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Taejin says. It’s the only thing he dares say.</p>
<p>All he can think now is how few ilms there are between them, how Taejin just has to lean in and up to press his mouth against Aymeric’s— but he won’t. His thoughts are spiraling, desperate and reckless for something long missed, but he won’t act on them. He can ill afford that kind of impulsiveness now, if ever. He doesn’t think he can survive the aftermath.</p>
<p>Aymeric notices Taejin’s continued silence, the careful way he holds himself still. He looks down at his hand on Taejin’s arm and the flush spreads to his ears and down his neck. He doesn’t shy away, though. His smile is more tentative— <em>hopeful</em>— as he says, “Let us talk later, after you return. After the war.”</p>
<p>And still Taejin can’t bring himself to speak, the promise wrapping tightly around his throat. Aymeric’s eyes search his face and the hopeful expression dims to uncertainty. Aymeric steps back, his hand sliding down Taejin’s arm and away, and the warmth is gone from his voice as he says, “I will take my leave then. You should go speak with Lord Edmont-”</p>
<p>
  <em>Wait. Wait!</em>
</p>
<p>Because here was the thing: while up in the air, traversing the sky on the Enterprise, Taejin had time to think. While following Y’shtola and Alphinaud across the Dravanian forelands into Sharlayan, he tangled his fingers about the chain around his neck and thought about the man who gave him a ring. He could not help it; Aymeric was starting to preoccupy his thoughts during the lull, the sojourn from Ishgard to Ul’dah to Gridania to Sharlayan. He kept wondering what Aymeric was thinking, what he was doing, how he was faring while they raced against time to rescue Y’shtola and find their key into Azys Lla.</p>
<p>He wondered for weeks until they returned to Ishgard with an answer and a plan, until there was an hour left until departure, until he realized he could not leave without making a promise of his own. He will come back, he had said, but not just to see Ishgard through the aftermath.</p>
<p>So he catches Aymeric’s hand in his before it falls out of reach. Long callused fingers curl reflexively around his and he hears the hitch in Aymeric’s breath, that pause that is the moment before one leaps into the unknown. </p>
<p>“Taejin?” Aymeric asks, and his voice is so soft and so hopeful.</p>
<p>What is he doing, what does he want? He cannot say, words failing him utterly, but he wants to know what happens after the war ends. He wants to know what becomes of him and Aymeric once the dust settles and a new Ishgard rises from it. He wants what he never thought he could have, from the ring hanging from his neck to the hand in his. Taejin looks at the gold filigree on the back of Aymeric’s hand and around his fingers, and wonders where the child’s ring used to sit. Perhaps… this one, or that one. He raises Aymeric’s hand to his lips and kisses it. Fingers tighten around his and he looks up at the Elezen. Aymeric stares at him, flustered and flushed with color, blue eyes dark with longing.</p>
<p>
  <em>Time, Taejin. Your hour is almost up. You have to go. You have to save Ishgard.</em>
</p>
<p>“I will come back,” he says, words brushing against warmed metal and hot skin. “I promise.”</p>
<p>One more kiss, and then he lets Aymeric go and steps back. Aymeric looks at his hand, still in the air, and then curls his fingers and drops it to his side. He nods, and it is as though a spell has broken. Taejin turns away and walks back to the gates of the manor, feeling hot and light-headed. His heart beats painfully. What did he do? Did he really— he touches his lip and still feels the fading impression of Aymeric’s knuckles against it.</p>
<p>He wants to laugh. Of all things to happen to him….</p>
<p>Alphinaud is waiting in front of the Fortemps manor with the house knight, looking windswept and breathless like he’d run up too many stairs and sloping walkways. He is trying to tame his hair but stops when he sees Taejin approach.</p>
<p>“There you are! Did you take the long way around from the Congregation or— are you well? Taejin?”</p>
<p>“What? Why-” He touches his cheek and it burns under his cold fingers. The house knight is watching him, a knowing glint in their eyes. He coughs and clears his throat, embarrassed. “I, uh, may have gotten turned around trying to take a shortcut. I should have used the Aethernet.”</p>
<p>Alphinaud looks unconvinced. </p>
<p>“If I may, Master Alphinaud,” the house knight says. “Lord Edmont is waiting for you in the parlor. You should not keep him waiting any longer.”</p>
<p>“You’re right.” Alphinaud shakes his bangs out of his eyes and straightens his coat. “We shouldn’t keep him or the others waiting. Come on, Taejin.”</p>
<p>Taejin nods and follows him into the manor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Time || Heavensward</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“... overthrowing a thousand-year-old theocracy, but he decided to make a deal with the Ascians.”</p>
<p>Y’shtola sits back, tapping her chin, while Alphinaud drinks from his tankard.</p>
<p>“Fair enough,” she concedes with a shrug. “As our Ascian friends decided to involve themselves, it was only right that we too waded into the war. I was also not present for most of your time here, so I wouldn’t know what options were presented to you. But you must know this puts the Scions in an… awkward position.”</p>
<p>“Acting as a neutral party hardly meant we should have also remained apolitical.”</p>
<p>“That was not at all my point….”</p>
<p>Tataru leans over to Taejin and whispers, “This is no fun. Do you think they’ll notice if we leave?”</p>
<p>He can barely hear her over the din of the Forgotten Knight. He shrugs helplessly and flashes a small smile.</p>
<p>“The whole point of coming here was to have some fun before the big day,” she sighs. “You haven’t smiled once since we got here.”</p>
<p>Taejin gives her a look.</p>
<p>“That one didn’t count! Oh I wish they’d stop talking about Ishgard this and Eorzea that. It’s all we ever talked about since you came back.” </p>
<p>“... the dragoons,” Y’shtola is saying, oblivious to Tataru’s simmering mood. “That could complicate our relationships with the others. Remember that it was you who suggested we relocate to Revenant’s Toll. The idea was to not appear influenced by any one nation.”</p>
<p>“Influenced? Do you really think-” Alphinaud catches himself and exhales very, very slowly. “In a few days, Ishgard will officially rejoin the Eorzean Alliance and present a united front against Garlemald. And while I proposed the move….”</p>
<p>Tataru has the right idea, Taejin decides, but he doubts he can escape without them noticing. Everyone in the Forgotten Knight will notice if he left. One could hardly forget the Warrior of Light returning to Ishgard astride <em>Midgardsormr</em>, or the shocking news that trailed in their wake. Even Gibrillont had looked at him strangely when he entered the tavern. He wishes the staring would stop, that he was anonymous so that nobody can see him trying to hold himself together.</p>
<p>“Taejin? Taejin,” Y’shtola says.</p>
<p>He blinks and looks up at her milky eyes. He then feels his nails digging into his palms and forces his hands to unclench under the table. “Sorry, I was…. I’m not feeling well. I may have had too much to drink.”</p>
<p>The other Scions look at him and his half-empty tankard skeptically. While Tataru kept the drinks flowing in a desperate attempt at levity, Taejin never finished his second ale. </p>
<p>Y’shtola sighs. “We are very bad at relaxing, aren’t we?”</p>
<p>Alphinaud stares off into the distance, gaze somewhat unfocused. “Maybe because the last time we tried, we got stabbed in the back. I can’t help but wonder if more security measures-”</p>
<p>Tataru raises her hand. “Alphinaud! Help me get more ale.”</p>
<p>She pulls Alphinaud to his feet and away by his sleeve, leaving Taejin and Y’shtola alone. Taejin takes a sip of the spiced ale and then pushes the tankard away. Y’shtola’s cheeks are pink as she drinks from hers.</p>
<p>“How are you, Taejin?” she asks.</p>
<p>“I’m fine. Just tired.”</p>
<p>She smiles sympathetically. “You’ve been saying that all week.”</p>
<p>He blinks. A week? Has it only been eight days since they returned from Azys Lla? How much time passed since he watched Estinien pick up Nidhogg’s other eye?</p>
<p>“The others are arriving within the next sennight for the ceremony,” she says. “I… know we haven’t had much time to ourselves, but the sooner we can stabilize Ishgard, the sooner we can continue our search for the others. It’s only a few days, Taejin. You only need to hold on for that much longer.”</p>
<p>Her voice drifts and he looks up. It is hard to see in the dim lighting and one can think the shadows under her eyes to be a trick of the light, but he knows how busy she and Alphinaud have been these past few suns. They ought to be trying to unwind and relax, which won’t happen so long as he’s here.</p>
<p>“I really am tired,” Taejin says and lurches to his feet. He considers the contents of his tankard, and then picks it up and swallows down the rest of the ale. It sits warm in his stomach and will keep him warm on the walk back to the Pillars. “I’m turning in for the night.”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell the others,” Y’shtola says. “Use the Aethernet.”</p>
<p>He glances down once while climbing the stairs; Tataru and Alphinaud have come back to the table with more of Gibrillont’s hot spiced ale, but they’re carrying four tankards for three. Taejin looks away when Y’shtola begins to explain and exits the Forgotten Knight. The evening is cold—Ishgard is always cold—and he considers the Aethernet shard in a corner of the plaza. Instead he passes by the glimmering blue crystal and heads up to the Pillars. The streets are still emptier than when he first stepped foot in Ishgard and he tries not to think about the implications. He tries not to think about so many things.</p>
<p>Snow crunches underfoot and his breath fogs around his head, but Gibrillont’s brew keeps him warm as he walks to the Fortemps manor. It sloshes in his head and he has to wait for it to settle before giving his attention to the house knight in front of the gate.</p>
<p>“... have a guest.”</p>
<p>“A guest?” He immediately looks heavenward; the moon is bright and the snowfall light, but it is late and he can’t imagine why anyone would come looking for him now. Unless…. “Who?”</p>
<p>“Ser Aymeric. He came here about a bell ago. I told him neither Lord Edmont nor the Scions were in but he said he would wait. He’s in the parlor now.”</p>
<p>Taejin looks at the manor, suddenly cold with apprehension. “I see. Thank you.”</p>
<p>Why is Aymeric here at this hour? Why tonight? Why at all? Surely he has better things to do than to sit around waiting for the Scions to return from a night out. Taejin brushes snow off his shoulders at the threshold and then remembers a promise made when the sky was blue and the way forward was clear.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Let us talk later, after you return. After the war.”</em>
</p>
<p>But Taejin isn’t ready to talk, and the war isn’t over.</p>
<p>Nobody is in the parlor. For a moment, Taejin thinks that the house knight made a mistake but a manservant appears at his elbow and says Aymeric had asked to wait elsewhere. He is taken to a little-used study near the hall where the Scions are staying and left standing outside the door. There is light under it and Taejin thinks about turning around. </p>
<p>He knocks, then enters the study. </p>
<p>It is a small, well-furnished room with star charts and a painting of Abalathia’s Spine on the walls and around the small glass window, bookshelves laden with tomes and curiosos, a Fortemps shield and sword leaning against a corner, chairs and a bench, and a heavy desk with a spherical astrolabe and a tea set on it. Steam still streams from the teapot’s spout and one of the two cups is full of milky tea. Taejin looks up from it at Aymeric, who’s standing in front of the fireplace and staring back. The lord commander is almost unrecognizable without his blue and gold coat and armor, without the distinct blue sword at his side. He cuts a slimmer figure dressed in clothes more practical than fanciful. Gilded accents catch the firelight as he turns around and he seems to glow.</p>
<p>“Taejin.” Aymeric utters his name like a welcome and a sigh of relief, and <em>oh</em>.</p>
<p>He looks elsewhere, mouth suddenly dry, blinking rapidly. “I… was told you came here an hour ago and asked to wait. Lord Edmont isn’t-”</p>
<p>“I did not come here to speak with him.”</p>
<p>“Alphinaud, Y’shtola, and Tataru are still elsewhere. I don’t know when they’ll return.”</p>
<p>“They are not why I came here.” Aymeric looks at him with keen eyes. “Are you well?”</p>
<p>Taejin knows he’s still flush with drink, but is it really that obvious? “I just came back from the Forgotten Knight.”</p>
<p>“I did not mean the drinking, though I won’t blame you for imbibing in Gibrillont’s ale. I mean….” Aymeric hesitates. His calm composure wavers. “Lord Edmont said you had not been outside in days.”</p>
<p>Oh. There it is.</p>
<p>It was the reason why he followed the others out to the Forgotten Knight tonight, and the reason why he retreated to the manor. He had to do something to prove—to whom? —that Azys Lla didn’t take too much from him. Except it did, because after he returned he went to his borrowed room and did not leave it for two days. He passed the next four suns within the walls of the manor, drifting between nightmares. </p>
<p>When Ser Alberic came to the gate, asking after him and Estinien, Taejin refused to see him. He didn’t know how to say that Estinien was lost, taken by the dragon he so loathed right at the moment he thought he could finally be free. </p>
<p>Nobody asked about Ysayle, who once struck fear into the hearts of Ishgardians, who drew heretics out of the city when they had finally breached its defenses, who gave all of herself to hasten the end of a war that won’t end.</p>
<p>“Nidhogg still lives.”</p>
<p>Aymeric looks away. “I know.”</p>
<p>“I really thought this would be it,” he continues. He thinks about Alphinaud’s bitter reminder of how a night in Ul’dah ended, how far the Scions fell after their shining victories. “I really thought that this war would finally be over.”</p>
<p>Taejin laughs bitterly. “What was I thinking? We tried to celebrate our victory over the Horde with a banquet and instead I was accused of regicide and put in chains. I lost everything that night. So why wouldn’t I lose more people while killing the archbishop of Ishgard? Why wouldn’t I lose the friends who gave everything trying to end the war for good?”</p>
<p>The crackling from the fireplace fills in the silence. Taejin is suddenly so tired. He leans against the heavy desk, jostling fine china and spilling tea all over the tray. He feels so heavy and empty, and all the ale he drank isn’t helping. He rubs his face but his thoughts stay cloudy and dark.</p>
<p>There is no one else to blame, no one else to hold anger against, when not one person was directly responsible for what all happened on that floating isle. What he would give to pluck Ysayle out of the sky so that she could witness the archbishop laid low. What he would give to rewind time and take Nidhogg’s other eye. He sees Estinien holding up both eyes of the black wyrm so clearly in his mind. He sees it again and again and again.</p>
<p>
  <em>I should’ve done something. Anything. It’s my fault.</em>
</p>
<p>A shadow falls over him but he doesn’t look up.</p>
<p>“Why?” Aymeric asks. “You couldn’t have known what would happen if Nidhogg’s eyes were brought together.”</p>
<p>Taejin regrets finishing off that second ale. These are thoughts that should stay inside his head. “The eye is the source of a wyrm’s power. You know the Azure Dragoon is always at war with the left one. To have them both.... Nidhogg’s influence would have been inescapable. It was obvious. I should’ve known-”</p>
<p>“But you didn’t. It seems obvious now but in that moment, could you have predicted what would happen?”</p>
<p>He thought about that moment too many times. His hands and arms were shaking too much to pick up his bloody lance; he never could’ve grasped Nidhogg’s other eye. His mind was still clouded with the aftermath of battle. He barely registered Estinien walking through the reactor, dripping blood and ichor all over the ruined floor.</p>
<p>He exhales. “No.”</p>
<p>He hears a soft huff and then feels fingertips under his chin. Aymeric tilts his head up so that Taejin meets his gaze. He smiles wistfully while cupping the side of Taejin’s face; his hand is very warm and Taejin leans into it without thought. </p>
<p>“I remember what you told me about everyone you lost,” Aymeric says softly. “How they weigh on your mind, how you feel them so deeply. How you blame yourself even when it wasn’t your fault.”</p>
<p>“If I wasn’t there, they would still be alive.”</p>
<p>“But if you weren’t there, how many more would be dead? Estinien and Ysayle are lost to us, but Archbishop Thordan is no longer a threat. Those Ascians are no longer a threat. Ishgard is free to rebuild and reform, and we will be ready for Nidhogg when he returns. </p>
<p>“And this was all possible because of you, Taejin.”</p>
<p>Why can’t he believe what Aymeric is saying? Does he really think this a fair exchange or—or this isn’t about what is fair, but what is right. Then why did it have to be them? Why did it have to be Haurchefant? Minfilia? Thancred? Papalymo and Yda? Moenbryda? Doubt eats at him, hollowing him out. He wants to retreat, to slip out of Aymeric’s reach and hide… but he can’t do it. Aymeric’s touch is feather-light but something in the Elezen’s voice compels him to stay for just a little longer.</p>
<p>He blinks and looks up, and realizes Aymeric has been watching him the entire time he despaired at himself. What else is Taejin unknowingly let slip? </p>
<p>“I don’t know if I ever met someone who feels as deeply as you do,” Aymeric says thoughtfully, like he’d been thinking about this for many, many moons. “I wonder if that is how you are able to save Eorzea many times over without fail, without losing that fire. The Scions’ cause is noble, it is just, but you make it yours. And then you come here, accused of crimes you did not commit, and you bring that fire with you. How could I not admire you for that?”</p>
<p>“We do what we-” He stops talking when Aymeric presses his thumb to his lips. He shivers, hot all over for reasons that have nothing to do with ale.</p>
<p>“We all have our duty, but you would give of yourself until there is nothing left,” the Elezen says quietly. “I was here yesterday to consult with Lord Edmont and that was when he told me. He was afraid that whatever happened in Azys Lla broke you because you would not leave these walls. I think… that you had taken on too great a burden, and every loss hurts you more than you realize.” </p>
<p>What could he say to that? He wants to deny it if only to save face, but he thinks about Tataru’s complaints over tonight’s trajectory, the questions Y’shtola had been asking, the reason why Alphinaud nearly begged him to go to the tavern with them. He thinks about how the others had worked for days, negotiating to bring Ishgard back to the Eorzean Alliance and resuming their search for the missing Scions, while he passed them in guilt-ridden solitude. </p>
<p>But they never bothered him. They never asked him to step in. So when Alphinaud asked him to come with them, he agreed. He had to show that they had not lost him, yet he returned to the manor alone. </p>
<p>“I’m not broken, am I?” </p>
<p>“No,” Aymeric says immediately. “I think you just need time.” </p>
<p>
  <em>When will I ever have time?</em>
</p>
<p>Minfilia always lamented that she could not spare him while sending him forward with the next request, the next task, the next mission. Nothing changed after he and the Scions came to Ishgard, but then he remembers the night Aymeric sought him out and asked after his well-being. He remembers standing in Aymeric’s private chambers, putting to words his grief and rage over Haurchefant’s death. It was as if the Elezen was carving out pockets of time for him, minutes and hours for him to think, <em>hear, feel</em>.</p>
<p>“I think you know why I came here," Aymeric continues, "but it would be best if I take my leave now. We can talk later, when you are ready.”</p>
<p>Taejin doubts he ever will be, but he doesn’t want this moment to slip away. Hasn’t he already lost enough time? He leans in, watching the golden glint of firelight in those blue eyes, and feels rather than hears the low sharp intake of breath, the exhale against his lips. Aymeric’s hand trembles against the side of his face but the Elezen doesn’t push him away.</p>
<p>“Why did you really come here?” Taejin asks. “Why did you wait instead of trying again tomorrow?” </p>
<p>Aymeric doesn’t answer right away. His eyes sweep over Taejin and then he smiles like he found the answer. “I had to see you. Once I knew where you were and why, I had to know if you were well, if you-”</p>
<p>Taejin kisses him.</p>
<p>There’s a soft, surprised sound before Aymeric kisses him back. His mouth is as Taejin imagined it—soft yet firm and so warm, and Taejin doesn’t want to stop kissing it. He has to rise up on his toes and Aymeric has to bow his head, and they clutch each other tightly, unwilling to let go after so many weeks stumbling toward tonight. Taejin’s hands curl tightly around the front of Aymeric’s thick blue coat and Aymeric keeps him steady and close with a hand on the small of his back and the other caressing the side of his face. Taejin shivers from the touches, the proximity, the way Aymeric murmurs his name before kissing him again. He feels light, effervescent, and so incredibly warm. The feeling is intoxicating. </p>
<p>It is such a shame that he has to breathe. He falls back against the heavy desk and jostles the tea set again. Aymeric glances at it with concern before looking back at him. Something about the firelight seems to make Aymeric glow around the edges, or maybe it is still the drink in Taejin’s head. Aymeric’s eyes are so dark and keen; a deep red blush spreads across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears and down his neck. He couldn’t hope to hide whatever he felt any longer. </p>
<p>Taejin raises his hand to brush aside hair from Aymeric’s eyes, then sinks his fingers into those soft dark locks. Aymeric closes his eyes and leans into his palm with a sigh.</p>
<p>“Do we still need to talk?” Taejin asks. “What else is there to say?”</p>
<p>Aymeric laughs and presses a kiss to the inside of Taejin’s wrist. “We still should. With the way things are unfolding, it will help to know where we stand.”</p>
<p>The words sink in the pit of his stomach. There’s no use pretending they’re not who they are, is there? </p>
<p>“But not tonight,” the Elezen adds, along with another kiss to the inside of his wrist. “That conversation is for another time.”</p>
<p>Taejin shivers at the warm weight of Aymeric’s voice and leans forward to kiss him again. Aymeric meets him halfway and with fervor. His mouth tastes sweet and bitter and like Ishgardian tea, and it makes Taejin curious for more. He could keep kissing the Elezen, mapping every ilm of his mouth, feeling his sighs and low moans, knowing how his lips move when he says Taejin’s name, and never tire. </p>
<p>It feels like hours had passed when they pull apart. Taejin leans against the desk, trying to catch his breath. His mouth is numb and swollen with kisses, and his heart beats like bells, pounding in his chest and his head. The room is sweltering but he can’t trust his hands to cooperate if he decides to peel off his coat. </p>
<p>“We should… we ought to stop,” Aymeric says hoarsely. He doesn’t seem at all like his usually composed self. His eyes are on Taejin’s mouth and they are dark with want; he leans in despite his words. Reason is not with him, and a frisson of anticipation shivers down Taejin’s spine. “I would rather not be caught in another lord’s home like this.”</p>
<p>Yet he still kisses Taejin and Taejin does nothing to stop him. He finds it so hard not to kiss the Elezen again and again, cupping his face with both hands to keep him close. Taejin’s heart skips a beat and then several when Aymeric crowds him against the desk and starts trailing kisses from the corner of his mouth to the line of his scarred jaw to his neck. He shudders as heat pools in his stomach and sinks, makes a sound he never heard from himself before, and shifts anxiously against Aymeric while trying and failing to predict where this tumultuous night is heading; he throws his hand back against the desk to brace himself and knocks over the spherical astrolabe. It rolls off the desk and lands on the floor with a resounding thud.</p>
<p>But what Taejin hears is muffled shouting outside the manor. While distant, it is still too close to be ignored and it shatters the illusion of shared solitude. Aymeric quickly steps back, startled, and reaches for a sword that isn’t there. Taejin glances at the dusty sword in the forgotten corner of the study, but doesn’t reach for it; he hears nothing else that warrants taking up a Fortemps blade. The study fills with the sounds of the fireplace and ragged breaths and blood pounding in his head. He presses fingertips to his brow and sighs.</p>
<p>“I should take my leave,” Aymeric says reluctantly. “I let myself get carried away when that isn’t what you need.”</p>
<p>“Maybe it is,” Taejin thinks to say, but all he does is hum in disagreement. In this moment of stillness, with excitement sinking beneath the surface, he realizes he is very tired. </p>
<p>When he opens his eyes, the astrolabe is back on the desk and the tea set reorganized, empty cups sitting in a pool of cooled tea. Aymeric is in front of him, straightening himself out; he stands closer than one would think appropriate, close enough to unthinkingly reach out and adjust the collar of Taejin’s coat. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Taejin says. He doesn’t know what else to say.</p>
<p>“You deserve more than you think,” Aymeric replies, not at all talking about Taejin’s appearance. He hesitates before stepping back. The Elezen looks calm and composed, though his hair is still a bit disheveled and the tips of his ears are still red. “You need not see me out. I know these halls well enough.”</p>
<p>Taejin still walks with him outside, where he spots Tataru idling away at the gate with the Fortemps house knight. She’s talking animatedly with the Elezen, her hat askew and her face ruddy with drink. The house knight follows along with her loud conversation with slow nods and shrugs, but immediately straightens upon spotting Taejin and Aymeric. Aymeric strides forward with a smile but Taejin hangs back, hoping she doesn’t look at the embarrassment burning on his face. Tataru is far too observant to be fooled by any other reason for Aymeric’s visit at this late hour.</p>
<p>The Lalafell waves at him. The house knight is looking everywhere else, and Taejin is by turns mortified and grateful.</p>
<p>“Miss Tataru,” Aymeric says, giving her a graceful bow. “I trust you had a good evening.”</p>
<p>“I have,” she replies cheerfully. “Taejin! I thought maybe you’d gone down to the chocobo stables! And, uh, told Y’shtola and Alphinaud to try there.”</p>
<p>Taejin stares at her, and then realizes the voice he heard outside sounded much like hers. “I heard shouting outside the manor. Was that you?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you mean.” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “I guess I should tell them I was wrong and you were here all along.”</p>
<p>Aymeric laughs and then turns to Taejin. “Should you find time tomorrow, there is something I wish to discuss. You know Sultana Nanamo, Admiral Merlwyb, and the Elder Seedseer better than I, and I would spare Ishgard some embarrassment while they are here for the ceremony.”</p>
<p>“Don’t forget about General Raubahn,” Tataru whispers loudly.</p>
<p>Taejin sees right through the lord commander’s request. Mindful of Tataru and the Fortemps knight, who is still pretending to be elsewhere, he nods. “I’ll be happy to help.”</p>
<p>“I will be at my office for most of the day. If not, Lucia will tell you where to find me.” He gives Tataru another bow. “Good night, Miss Tataru. Taejin.” He then looks at the house knight. “Please give Lord Edmont my regards.”</p>
<p>His gaze lingers on Taejin as he turns and leaves. Taejin watches the lord commander disappear into the falling snow and almost forgets that he’s not alone. Tataru sighs loudly, her breath billowing from her in a cloud above her snow-covered cap.</p>
<p>“So, I wasn’t being completely honest,” she says. “I got here first because I wasn’t carrying Alphinaud around, and the guard told me Ser Aymeric was here and you’d gone inside and that was at least a couple hours ago… so I told them you weren’t here and maybe you’d gone to see your chocobo.” In a more conspiratorial tone, she adds, “We had a <em>lot</em> to drink.”</p>
<p>“You look like it,” Taejin says. He’ll admit to being more than a little terrified of the Lalafell and the gleam in her over-bright eyes. “Are you sure they can make it back safely? Maybe we should-”</p>
<p>“I’ll keep an eye out for them, Master Taejin,” the house knight offers.</p>
<p>The hour <em>is</em> late, so Taejin taps Tataru’s shoulder and they walk to the front door. “We should get out of the cold.”</p>
<p>“It isn’t so bad,” she says, and covers her mouth in surprise. “Did you hear that? I think I’ve gotten used to Ishgard. Have you?”</p>
<p>He can’t help but smile. “I suppose I have.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you to all who commented and left kudos for this story so far. I'm extremely terrible at responding to comments but I read them all and am deeply grateful for them. They encouraged me to expand this story behind the initial six chapters I planned to cover all of Heavensward (this also solved some serious pacing issues I struggled with until I gave up and accepted that this fic will see a decent word count before I call it quits). I am still working through the Dragonsong War quests and will probably pace updates with each set of quests I finish.</p>
<p>Given what I know of the quests that lie ahead, these next chapters are about to get interesting.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Ashes || As Goes Light, So Goes Darkness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sky is finally clear of smoke. Cold wind sweeps through the streets, carrying away the ashes. Two suns have come and gone, and no one had sounded the alarm, no one had run through the streets shouting of another fire, another building gone up in flames. Still, the thick, smoky, choking smell clings to Ishgard as civilians and soldiers try to clean up after days of unrest and arson, after zealots took hostages within the Vault, after a dragon came down from the clouds to save a child.</p><p>People talk—of war and peace, of Dravanians and archbishops, of an uncertain future and an attempted assassination. Taejin hears everything, fact and fiction volleying over his head while he cleans up the Brume alongside Hilda and the watch. He keeps his head down, unwilling to wade into people’s games, but every time he hears someone speak ill of Aymeric he goes hot and his hands grip the shovel too tightly.</p><p>Today, he stares at the soft glow of dawn on the ashes coating the windowsill of his borrowed room and tries to breathe. He forces his hands to unclench, leaving behind crescent-shaped indents in his palms as he turns away. Today, he has a plan and it is to leave Ishgard for the day. He will go somewhere—anywhere—to distract himself. To escape his thoughts. To breathe. He still smells ash and smoke and the stench chokes him. It reminds him of a city erupting. It reminds him how close he came to losing yet another person.</p><p>But Aymeric is like no other, and Taejin fears what he would’ve done if the lord commander had died. It is terrible to feel so vulnerable and helpless, to have hope collapse and crumble away while he wasn’t looking.</p><p>Taejin realizes he’s standing still in the middle of his room, half-dressed, clutching his necklace and trying to breathe. Hastily, he pulls on his clothes, his gear, his armor. He takes out a wrinkled map of Coerthas and Abalathia, and his gaze falls on Camp Dragonhead. His throat seizes up. Not there. He searches for Camp Cloudtop instead and traces the flight path from it to Ok’ Zundu.</p><p>He picks up his lance, repaired and gleaming after cutting down knights and priests, and leaves his room. The Scions are scattered throughout Ishgard, helping pick up the pieces of a fractured city. They won’t miss him if he disappears for a day.</p><p>He runs into Artoirel at the foyer. The Elezen is staring at something in his hand; he looks up when Taejin approaches and a smile graces his face.</p><p>“Taejin! You’re just the person I was looking for,” Artoirel says. “I am needed elsewhere but must have something delivered to Ser Aymeric. Would you do me this favor?”</p><p>Taejin freezes. The point of him leaving Ishgard was to distract himself from his increasingly dark thoughts, of which so many revolved around the lord commander. He needs time away to see everything in a new light. But he can’t explain that to Artoirel, can he? He can barely explain it to himself. Taejin nods wordlessly and holds out his hand for the item. It is wrapped in brown paper and feels like a tin. It smells earthy.</p><p>“This is the rest of the special salve,” Artoirel explains. “You saw the state Ser Aymeric was in after the excitement died down. I fear he may have overexerted himself rescuing the hostages. The salve should help him recover.”</p><p>Taejin nods again, solemnly. He knows what Artoirel saw when they ran past the pews to the Quire. He had tried not to dwell on the memory of rising panic as he saw the rebels hack away at Aymeric’s defenses, but apparently Artoirel had.</p><p>“It would also help him to see you,” Artoirel suddenly adds. Taejin looks at him sharply, mouth dry and heart pounding. What is the young lord speaking of? What does he know? “I know what else I saw. Have you ever seen the lord commander on the battlefield? No? Yet you fight alongside him as if you had all your life. That kind of familiarity does not come easily or often.”</p><p>He finally finds his voice. “That… hardly says anything. I trained as a lancer and a dragoon. The knights must know how to fight in tandem with us, else Nidhogg’s Horde would’ve overwhelmed your defenses long ago.”</p><p>“I only speak on what I saw.” Artoirel shrugs. “If you insist otherwise, I have nothing to say.”</p><p>Taejin doesn’t find his words reassuring. Cautious, he pockets the salve and steps back. “There is nothing to say, and I prefer you keep it that way.”</p><p>Artoirel smiles. It feels strangely brotherly. It almost reminds him of Haurchefant. “I know a thing or two about gossip and hearsay. I will say nothing until you do.” He frowns. “Especially around Emmanellain.”</p><p>Taejin forces himself to relax. “I’ll remember that. Thank you.”</p><p>He could not leave the manor quickly enough, striding past the house knight yawning discreetly while standing at attention and nearly colliding with a highborn Elezen and their maidservant. He apologizes hastily, doesn’t hear their indignant exclamations, and continues half-running to the Last Vigil and the walkway descending to the Jeweled Crozier. His mind spins. Artoirel’s observations caught him off-guard and now he wonders what the others saw. What did they see? What did they think? </p><p>What would they do if they learned his friendship with Aymeric had become something else?</p><p>He turns a corner while walking through the marketplace—a third emptier than he remembers and it seems to be permanent—and glimpses someone with light hair ducking into an alleyway. If he’s being hopeful, it’s just a civilian minding their business, but when has that ever been the case? He sighs inwardly and continues down to the Foundation.</p><p>Taejin passes by wagons loaded with scorched rubble and enters the Congregation. The main hall is strangely empty; its knights and dragoons must be out helping the city recover from the chaos and flames the rebel faction had sown. Lucia is here, though, staring pensively at what looks like a report next to a large table piled high with maps, sealed missives, and the like. She doesn’t notice Taejin at first and only looks up when he clears his throat.</p><p>“Taejin,” she says with a smile. “My apologies, I didn’t realize you’d be here. Are you looking for Ser Aymeric?”</p><p>He tries not to wince. Is it that obvious? “Lord Artoirel asked that I deliver something on his behalf.” He then considers Lucia’s question. “Is he not here?”</p><p>Lucia sighs, her stern frame slumping. “I had him return to his manor earlier this morning. He insists on spending his days and nights here but with his condition, he was doing himself no favors.”</p><p>Alarmed, Taejin reaches into his pocket for the salve. “Is he not well?”</p><p>“The chirugeons told him he needed to rest. The concept is foreign to him, but once I threatened to remove him bodily from his office….” Lucia shrugs. “Whatever it is Lord Artoirel has for him, you can deliver it to the Borel manor. And I’m sure Ser Aymeric will appreciate the company.”</p><p>“Of course,” Taejin utters. His response is even and neutral, but his face is warm again. He steps back.</p><p>“Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” Lucia asks.</p><p>“I’m visiting Camp Cloudtop. I haven’t been there since….” He drifts off. When he was last there, he and Alphinaud were pursuing the archbishop. It seems like a lifetime ago.</p><p>Lucia nods sympathetically. “Perhaps you can deliver a missive to Lady Laniaitte at the Rosehouse while you’re there.”</p><p>He takes the folded, sealed paper Lucia offers him and tucks it away. “It seems I am playing the part of a delivery moogle today.”</p><p>She doesn’t laugh but the corners of her eyes crinkle as she bids him farewell and returns to the task quite literally in her hand. Taejin looks around the main hall as he leaves and his gaze falls on the knight still standing at attention next to the staircase leading up to the unoccupied Seat of the Knight Commander. He is still looking when he walks out of the Congregation and into Thancred.</p><p>“Thancred? What are you doing here?” Taejin asks while hauling the older Hyur back onto his feet.</p><p>“Was making my rounds,” Thancred says vaguely. He rubs his shoulder and chest while scowling at Taejin’s pauldrons. “That’s going to bruise.”</p><p>“Sorry, I should’ve been paying attention.”</p><p>Thancred waves off his concerns. “Never mind me, I’ve had worse. Where are you off to that has you so distracted?”</p><p>But Taejin just stares at him. How is he still downplaying his time wandering the Dravanian wilderness, trapped by the disruption to his aetheric flow and kept far away from the others searching for him while saving Ishgard? Thancred notices his distress and smiles fondly while placing a placating hand on Taejin’s shoulder.</p><p>“You need not worry about me. In fact, I should be the one asking after you since you were the most responsible for saving these people from dragons, Ascians, and primals. Even now-” And Thancred leans forward to pluck a folded paper sticking out from Taejin’s coat. “-they rely on you to deliver messages for them. They can’t ask one of their own or a delivery moogle to do this?”</p><p>Taejin snatches the missive from him and tucks it away. “It’s just a small favor for a friend. It’s for someone at Camp Cloudtop and I’m going there anyway. I’ll be back by tomorrow morning if anyone asks.”</p><p>He turns and walks through Saint Valeroyant’s Forum. He tenses when Thancred follows him up toward the Pillars. Any second now, Thancred will ask where else he’s going since he’s obviously not leaving for Camp Cloudtop right away, and he is in no mood to wait.</p><p>“Were you following me earlier?” he asks abruptly, stopping in his tracks and turning around to the Scion.</p><p>Startled, Thancred steps back, eye wide, body tensing. Then he relaxes, shrugs nonchalantly, and says, “We’ve been working day and night to placate this city. I assumed you would wile away today in your room or at the Forgotten Knight-”</p><p>“You’re awake now and making your rounds,” he counters.</p><p>Thancred raises his hands. “Fair point. But you were asked to run an errand so early in the morning. What did Lord Artoirel entrust you with that he didn’t with anybody else?”</p><p>Taejin blinks. Why is he asking these questions? What answers is he searching for? <em>What else does he know?</em> “He needed something to be delivered and I was on my way out. It’s not a—it’s medicine. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”</p><p>“I’m observing,” Thancred says. He tilts his head, scrutinizing Taejin. “You’ve changed quite a bit more than I expected. You and Alphinaud both. I suppose time away from us has lent you confidence in yourself. It is… good to see.”</p><p>Taejin softens at the wistful gloom in Thancred’s voice. “And now you’re here. Do you know what a relief it was to find you and Y’shtola? All that’s left is finding Minfilia, Papalymo, Yda, and the other Scions. We can finally be together again.”</p><p>Thancred huffs like he can’t summon the strength to laugh. “I suppose you’re right. I should speak with Krile. She would have a few ideas on where and how to renew our search.”</p><p>Taejin nods and steps away, intending to part ways.</p><p>“But I do wonder,” the older man suddenly says, “how your close involvement with Ishgard will affect things moving forward. I’m still getting the full picture of what happened here, and you’re in every frame.”</p><p>“Ishgard could not fight a war with the Dravanians forever and survive, so Alphinaud offered to help end it,” Taejin says. “Besides, Archbishop Thordan was using the Ascians to harness a primal’s power for himself. What else were we to-”</p><p>“I’m not talking about Alphinaud but about <em>you</em>.” Thancred steps forward and he steps back again. “We’re here to help Ishgard as we have helped others. Take care with how you influence them and how they influence you. I’ll not see a repeat of everything that happened with the Crystal Braves.”</p><p>Taejin tries to breathe. He runs hot and cold, and his hands clench as he tries to find his words. “There is no Teledji or Ilberd here. Teledji is dead and Ilberd is gone, Thancred. The people trying to save Ishgard are nothing like them.”</p><p>He probably proved Thancred’s point since Thancred merely arches an eyebrow at him. “You’re right, they’re not.”</p><p>Taejin takes another step back. He would look up but there is stone overhead, not a clear blue sky and a bright sun. “I have somewhere to be and things to deliver. We can talk about Ishgard another time, if you wish.”</p><p>He turns and walks away before Thancred can get in another word. He doesn’t see where he’s going but his feet already know where to turn, where to go straight, where to sidestep so as to not collide with people. He passes through the Jeweled Crozier, where young Emmanellain is talking cheerfully with other well-dressed and seemingly oblivious Elezens, and is halfway up the stairs to the landing in front of Saint Reymanaud Cathedral when his senses return. He stops at the top of the steps, gasping for air and tasting the lingering traces of smoke in the wind. People look at him oddly while walking by. He ignores them. He presses fingertips to his brow and tries to make sense of Thancred.</p><p>
  <em>“But I do wonder how your close involvement with Ishgard will affect things moving forward.”</em>
</p><p>What would Thancred have done differently? What would Y’shtola, what would—Taejin shakes his head. No, Thancred’s musings and questions were about <em>him</em>, the Warrior of Light. He wonders what Thancred had seen and heard during his short time here, and then he remembers Artoirel’s own observations, how clearly the young lord saw that his connection to Aymeric was no mere friendship but something deeper. </p><p>But <em>what</em> that is, Artoirel did not say. That is how Taejin wants it to be for Thancred, a close friendship borne from a shared desire to save this city and strengthen Eorzea against Garlemald and the Ascians. It may look like Taejin is wading too deep into Ishgardian affairs for the sake of doing the right thing, but that is better than the alternative, the other truth.</p><p>It takes a few guesses, a few wrong turns, and a tactful question to a patrolling knight before he finds the Borel manor. He looks at the Temple Knight stationed at the gate—posted there out of an abundance of caution—and walks past to the door. An elderly manservant greets him; Taejin presents the salve and explains himself, and is surprised when the manservant instead lets him in to deliver it in person. His lance is taken from him and the manservant shows him through the manor. Taejin hasn’t been inside since that one late night visit many moons ago and he looks around curiously. He sees no other servant but spots a cat lounging on a windowsill, soaking up the midmorning sun.</p><p>They stop at a pair of heavy wooden doors, not so different from the ones Lucia brought him to a long time ago, and the elderly manservant turns to him. “My lord insists he needs not rest. Perhaps you can convince him otherwise.”</p><p>Alarmed, Taejin turns to him to ask why but the manservant is already walking away. He’s left alone in the hall with far more questions than answers. Three different people have expressed their concern for Aymeric, and he wonders now what else happened while he wasn’t looking. What has Aymeric been up?</p><p>The part of him that remains an adventurer with a task to complete opens the door and lets himself in.</p><p>He stands inside a study not so dissimilar to Aymeric’s private chambers. The day is still young and cold sunlight illuminates the room, beaming through the latticework on the windows. The furnishings are old but well cared for. He looks around at the shelves and bookcases, the framed paintings and books and miscellany, the velvet chairs and benches, the table at one of end of the room with the darkened fireplace and the desk at the other, and the Elezen who is fast asleep behind stacks of papers and maps.</p><p>Taejin treads across the floor, softly as his boots will allow him, and around the small, heavy desk to look down at Aymeric. Aymeric’s face is half covered by his hair and his folded arms, but Taejin can still see the dark circle under his eye, the pallor of his face. No wonder Lucia made him leave his office; what good would it do for anyone to see the lord commander work himself sick?</p><p>What good will it do to drive himself to the brink when so many depend on him, when so many are ready to lend a hand?</p><p>Taejn withdraws the salve and contemplates waking Aymeric. There are better places to land than slumped over a desk, but he doesn’t want to interfere with some much-needed sleep. Perhaps he can leave word with the manservant and slip away. They can talk another day, after the dust has settled and Ishgard is ready once more to consider peace. He sets the salve on top of a stack of opened reports from Falcon’s Nest and steps away… only for the stack to tip over. The tin tumbles off the desk but Taejin lunges forward to catch it. He grips it tightly, breathing light and fast, and cautiously raises his head.</p><p>Aymeric stares back at him. His eyes are red and weary but slowly brightening, sharpening as they focus on Taejin. There’s a smudge of ink on his right cheek and his dark hair is in disarray. He slowly sits up as Taejin straightens himself. The smile on his face is soft and bemused, and Taejin cannot look away. He’s only had a glimpse of the lord commander the past two days, weeks since they were last alone together, and he cannot look away.</p><p>“I… came here at Lord Artoirel’s request,” he says awkwardly and sets the tin on the desk. “This is the rest of the salve. He thought you should have it.”</p><p>Aymeric looks at it curiously and then at him again. “When you see him, tell him he has my thanks.”</p><p>Taejin nods. He should, he should say something. He should let Aymeric be. He has somewhere to go, a letter to deliver. Yet he cannot speak. He cannot look away. He cannot leave.</p><p>“I… suppose Lucia sent you here when you couldn’t find me at my office,” Aymeric says. He drags a hand through his hair, trying to tame it. “She insisted my presence wasn’t required, that I should stay here and rest. But who has time to sit and wait when there is so much work to be done?”</p><p>Taejin finally unsticks his tongue. “You do. You don’t look well, Aymeric. No one would want to see you like this.” More softly, he adds, “I know I don’t.”</p><p>“Would that I have such luxury as time. But I do not.” Aymeric sighs and sits back in his seat, arms folding over his chest. He is still dressed for his station though he at least shed his armor. “I see no other way forward until we make our peace with the Dravanians. This I see clearly but so many do not and others still would rather burn the world than try. I wonder if anything changed in Vidofnir’s wake, if anyone’s heart swayed when they saw her save that child. I wonder what they say now about my overtures of peace.”</p><p>Taejin wonders what he should say. He heard it all while in the Brume. “I try not to listen but I may have broken too many shovels.”</p><p>Aymeric laughs. “Perhaps you should busy yourself with tasks elsewhere. You either learn to smile through the worst insults or disregard propriety completely and keep away whenever possible.”</p><p>“Which is why I am always elsewhere, chasing primals and Garleans. Others can do the talking and smiling for me.”</p><p>“You underestimate yourself. When you speak, people listen. But everything that must be done here must be done by one of our own. I ask for your help again and again, but in the end it is I who must make Ishgard listen.”</p><p>“I know,” Taejin says because there is no other way around a thousand years of lies. The only way is through and only by Ishgardian hands. “But none of this will be resolved today. It doesn’t have to be today.”</p><p>With a sigh, Aymeric picks up the missive he’d been resting his head on and puts it aside. Underneath is a map of Coerthas, Abalathia, and Dravania. It is an old map and missing many of the markers Taejin usually sees. Someone had inked in new markers for the Sea of Clouds but there is nothing pointing to Azys Lla.</p><p>“The lord commander’s work is never done. His duty is not finished until he is.”</p><p>“You nearly were.” Taejin doesn’t mean it but there’s an edge in his voice, tension he’d been trying to avoid. He looks pointedly at the salve. “Lord Artoiral bade me to deliver this because he thought you might have reinjured yourself. Lucia and your own manservant told me you would not rest, and I find you asleep at your desk. If you already worry those closest to you, then what of the ones looking up to you? Your duty can wait a few days.”</p><p>He notices Aymeric’s hand drift to his side, likely where the would-be assassin’s knife tried to find its mark. The wound still bothers him. It must’ve bothered him the entire time, and heat rises in the back of Taejin’s throat. A part of him wonders if he could’ve rescued the hostages faster; then Aymeric wouldn’t have fought Simeonard and the other zealots for as long as he did. A part of him wishes Aymeric had stayed back and allowed Lucia to lead the rescue.</p><p>“It always sounds different coming from you,” Aymeric says. “I wonder why that is. But you are right. I cannot lead when I am unwell, no matter how I want to believe otherwise.”</p><p>Taejin smiles. “You may be the lord commander, Aymeric, but you’re also mortal.”</p><p>He curls his fingers tightly, wavering, and then leans over to cover Aymeric’s hand with his. He feels more than hears the hitch in Aymeric’s breath, the huff of air against the side of his face. So few ilms separate them and he only needs to lean forward, just a little bit, to remember how Aymeric’s mouth feels against his. But he didn’t come here to see Aymeric privately; he still has a letter in his pocket and ideas of traveling through the Sea of Clouds.</p><p>He just can’t step away. He says, “We want to help you bring peace but we can’t do that without you. Take care of yourself. Everything can wait a few days,” but he can’t make himself leave.</p><p>So Aymeric makes the decision for him and leans forward. Taejin sighs into the kiss, presses his mouth to those warm, dry lips and buries his other hand in Aymeric’s hair. After so many weeks away from Ishgard, after the harrowing days of fire and treachery, they finally have a little time. The relief is almost palpable; he had no idea how much he missed Aymeric. Taejin deepens every kiss, reacquainting himself with the taste and feel of Aymeric’s mouth. Frissons of excitement shiver down his spine at every utterance of his name, half whispers and half moans, as Aymeric rises from his seat and pushes Taejin back against the desk. Aymeric is warm between his knees, hands steady and strong as they wrap around Taejin’s waist and pull him flush against the Elezen.</p><p>Taejin forgets why he came here or where he’s planning to go next. The last time he kissed Aymeric was after the ceremony proclaiming Ishgard’s return to the alliance, a few illicit seconds while nobody was looking. Nobody is looking now and they have so much more than a couple minutes to themselves. The kisses become heated, tongue and teeth and snatches of air. Desire burns hotly inside Taejin, searing heat under his skin and pooling low in the pit of his stomach; he had dressed warmly for the Sea of Clouds but now he wants to shed the layers of fabric and steel.</p><p>Aymeric presses his forehead to Taejin’s shoulder, heaving for air. He clutches at the leather straps crossing Taejin’s shoulders and waist, and then Taejin realizes he’s shaking, knees threatening to buckle. He wraps his arms tightly around Aymeric, ready to catch him if he falls.</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>“... Lucia may have been right,” Aymeric admits. He sounds pained. “Lord Artoirel, too. I did myself no favors when storming the Vault and did nothing to remedy it.”</p><p>Taejin sighs. “Probably shouldn’t have kissed me.”</p><p>“Difficult not to when it’s been over a moon since the last time I did.” Aymeric lifts his head and looks square at Taejin. He’s terribly pale, making the red flush stretching from ear to ear even more vivid than is proper or healthy. “I may need to sit.”</p><p>Taejin helps him back to his seat, frowning when Aymeric touches his side again and grimaces. “Do you need anything? Lucia mentioned the chirugeons.”</p><p>“They’re not necessary. It only hurts because I hadn’t allowed myself time to recover. It seems I have no choice if my… foolishness is keeping me away from even you.” Aymeric smiles ruefully. “Estinien would’ve mocked me mercilessly and I would’ve deserved it.”</p><p>Taejin looks at him in surprise. Aymeric rarely spoke of their lost dragoon and always with a pained expression, but here he speaks fondly, sheepishly even, as if Estinien is about to barge through the doors. </p><p>Then Taejin has a thought. “He always knew”</p><p>“I made no secret my admiration for you,” Aymeric says, “knowing what you did for him and Ser Alberic on top of everything you’d done for Eorzea. And, like us, you’ve given so much of yourself to help save Ishgard. Impossible not to admire you for it. Love you, even.”</p><p>Taejin flushes. “Aymeric?”</p><p>The Elezen just smiles at him, then glances at Taejin’s armor. “Where are you going today?”</p><p>He wonders at the deflection. Did Aymeric really mean to say that? “Camp Cloudtop, and Ok’ Zundu if I have time. I also have a letter to deliver to the Rosehouse.”</p><p>“From Lucia, I gather,” Aymeric says. He braces himself as if to stand but changes his mind and sits back with a sigh. “I wish I was in a better position to ask you to stay longer. Another time, I promise.”</p><p>“I will hold you to it.”</p><p>Taejin leans over to kiss Aymeric goodbye, and almost regrets it when one kiss becomes three and then six and then—he finally pulls away, breathing hard, lips swollen and slick. Aymeric looks as flustered and flushed as he feels, as if he’s just as surprised at how easily they lose track of time. Taejin drags a shaky hand through his hair and forces himself to step away.</p><p>“The Fury watch over you, Taejin,” Aymeric manages to say. His voice is breathless and rough, and Taejin shivers.</p><p>At a loss for words, Taejin only nods and then flees the study before he does something he’ll truly regret.</p><p>The elderly manservant finds him searching for a way back to the front door and shows him the way. Taejin waits anxiously while the manservant retrieves his lance, looking around the estate for something to distract him. The manservant returns before his thoughts can start spiraling and Taejin asks him to please keep an eye on Aymeric while taking it back.</p><p>“Easier to herd dragons,” the manservant sighs. “But we are of the same mind.”</p><p>Relieved, Taejin turns and steps outside.</p><p>“I am grateful that he has you, Master Taejin,” the manservant says right as the doors close behind him.</p><p>Taejin’s flight from his thoughts comes to a stop after he materializes at the Aethernet shard near the Arc of the Humble. Civilians look on as the Warrior of Light goes straight to the fountain, sits down on the ledge, and buries his face in his hands.</p><p>
  <em>“But I do wonder how your close involvement with Ishgard will affect things moving forward.”</em>
</p><p>How close is too close? Is it the lord commander’s heart? Teledji and Ilberd nearly toppled the sultana of Ul’dah and the Scions for greed and spite, but Taejin might have the love of the one man who can make or break Ishgard, this war with Nidhogg, and the Eorzean Alliance. He treads deeper waters than he has ever known. Is this why Thancred followed him through the city and  asked these questions?</p><p>He wishes he can talk to someone and make sense of the fog and fluster in his head. The only Scion who knows anything about his relationship with Aymeric is Tataru and the Lalafell has been working tirelessly with her network of contacts to track down the remaining Scions. He should just go catch an airship to Camp Cloudtop as he originally planned, a plan that he now knows will not come to pass when Tataru contacts him via linkpearl.</p><p>
  <em>“Taejin! Thancred said you were going to Camp Cloudtop. Did you leave already? I hope not-”</em>
</p><p>“No, I’m still here. Why? What’s wrong?”</p><p>
  <em>“Oh good, don’t go anywhere yet. I mean, nothing’s wrong! But you need to come back to the manor. Everybody else is here. It’s F’lhaminn, I finally have word from her and the others!”</em>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>.... Happy Starlight Celebration, I guess?? And if someone can please explain why my chapters are getting longer and longer despite my best efforts, that'll be great.</p><p>But seriously, be well and stay safe. You got this!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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